


Holding on to History

by AlexisCyra



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Backstory, Bangalore's birthday tradition, Gen, Sad family drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisCyra/pseuds/AlexisCyra
Summary: Every year, Anita "Bangalore" Williams indulges herself with an old model V-47 Flatline at a gun range on the outskirts of Solace City. It's her birthday tradition, but why is it she holds the weapon so dearly? A short exploration into elements of Anita's backstory to indulge in the potential tragedy of a family so intertwined with the military.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Holding on to History

There was nothing quite like the crack of a V-47 as it pierced the ambience of the Solace wilderness. Anita Williams allowed a smirk to form on her lips as she watched another target crumble before her, smoke still billowing from the fresh hole in its head. Not a second passed before her sights shifted again, the muzzle of the Flatline bursting with light as she emptied the magazine into a squad of dummies positioned in the range’s far corner. The ammo soon ran dry and she gleefully inspected her work as a small holographic board lit up beside her with a recorded time emblazoned on its display.

“4.3 seconds, huh?” Anita muttered to herself, taking a deep breath as she stepped away from the wooden pedestal. “Come on Sergeant Williams, you’re starting to get slow on the trigger.” Returning the Flatline to the gun rack, she walked back toward the gun range’s hub - a small communal space with a number of tables and benches laid out in a rustic hut. As usual, it was barren save for the owner who was seated in the office toward the rear. The room’s furnishings were all carved from wood, a rarity in the Outlands but a welcome break from the grime and rust of the cities’ mass-produced metal boxes they called apartments.

“Done for the day already, Anita?” The owner’s voice was low and gruff, one that matched the eternally angry expression etched into his face as he took draws from a cigarette.

“Yeah, think so, not feeling it today Derk.”

“Oh come on...” Derk rolled his eyes and looked up from the game of Solitaire laid out on his desk, raising his eyebrow. “I only get to see you stop by once a year and you’re gonna leave early on me? It took me weeks to hunt down such an old V-47! They don’t make them like that anymore and let me tell ya, they want you to forget they ever did with how hard they are to get!” He grumbled, scratching at his thick chestnut beard.

“Sorry Derk. I’ve just got a lot of things on my mind right now.”

Derk sighed, tossing his current cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out. “Because you always try to take on everything alone! I know you always get on my case when I say it, but bring some friends with you when you come up here. I know that look in your eyes. You have it every time you’re here. You’re lonely. You need some company.”

Anita’s eyes fell to the floor, where her boots shuffled awkwardly as she let Derk’s words process. “You know what I do, Derk. You don’t really make friends in my line of work.”

“Sure.” Derk conceded, a hand fumbling across the desk as he grabbed another cigarette. “ _Bangalore_ might not, but Anita sure can. If she gave herself the chance to.”

Anita audibly groaned, knowing that the elderly man had a point. It had been over three years since she had joined the Apex Games in hopes of securing the funds she needed to travel back to her true home on the Frontier. So far all she had succeeded in doing was falling for the group of Legends that shared the dropship with her. Maybe she did consider some of them beyond mere colleagues. Maybe she had a hard time admitting that to herself. Her one rule from the start had been ‘no attachments’ - had she broken that rule?

“All I’m saying is that it might be worth a try.” Derk shot Anita a grin, reclining back into his chair as he extended his arm out toward her. Slid in between his fingers was a small paper note. “There, a handwritten promise that I’ll allow a couple friends of yours to come in here for free if you bring them along next time. Derk deals don’t come by that often, Miss Williams!”

The smile began to return to Anita’s face, a warm glow resting on her cheeks. She took the note from Derk, stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans. “I appreciate it, Derk. Thank you. For the uh... the pep talk, I mean.” She looked around the hub, running a hand through her hair. “You know, maybe I will take a few more runs of the range today.”

“That’s more like it, birthday girl! Let me know if you need anything.” Derk returned to his Solitaire game, quickly descending into a deep state of thought as he struggled to even begin the game. “I’ll be uh...I’ll be here a while. Darn cards are useless today.”

Anita took it as her cue to leave, bending down as she passed back out through the door frame into the Solace sunlight. A delicate breeze passed through the trees above her head and sunlight trickled through the gaps between the leaves to paint a golden glow upon the grass under her boots. She was dressed in a casual outfit, far removed from the military gear that had become her staple in the Ring. A simple white t-shirt and a pair of jeans wasn’t going to be winning any Flaire D’Solace trophies but it was comfortable enough in the striking heat of the colony’s summer.

She returned to the rack, wrapping her fingers around the Flatline and lifting it away. The very moment her foot pressed back onto the pedestal, the gallery before her lit up as the various bullet-ridden targets and dummies were returned to their predetermined locations in the scene. The stock of the rifle fit snugly into her shoulder. She raised the weapon into a firing position, eyeing her first target down the barrel as the timer began to count down.

_5… 4… 3… 2…_

“No, Annie, not like that. A little bit higher.” A familiar voice explained softly from behind Anita, her eyes widening as an ethereal hand covered her own and began to lift the barrel of the Flatline up ever so slightly. “The V-47 is like no other weapon you’ll use, trust me.”

  
Anita blinked.

She opened her eyes to a sky coated in dust and ash. The alien flora of the forest had been replaced by imposing building blocks riddled with shrapnel and scorch marks. Trees were now imposing aerial arrays and watchtowers, all of which contributed to a military complex that seemed endless and all-encompassing.

Gridiron. Home.

“Mama! I know what I’m doing! Daddy already showed me before!” The young Anita pouted, wrestling for control of the rifle.

“Oh yeah sweetpea? You tryna tell your mama you know what you’re doing with a gun while yanking it around like that? Hardly giving me much confidence, Annie.” Anita’s mother remarked, shaking her head as the 13 year old attempted to assert dominance. “And anyway, daddy ain’t here right now so while I’m around, I’m gonna teach you my way... Got it?”

Anita stopped wrestling for the Flatline and allowed her mother to make the adjustment, lifting her aim to be level with the head of the makeshift target before them. IMC training drills left a myriad of destroyed MRVNs scattered across the surface of the complex, much to the delight of the Williams children, who used them for role playing games or to build small practice targets like this one.

“Now make sure that you’re firmly centered.” The mother fiddled with Anita’s stance. “Now that right there is your daddy’s favorite gun, you remember why Annie?”

“Because as long as you hold the left to right, your aim will stay true and tight.” Anita was quick to recite the phrase her father had taught her, mimicking the action of left to right with the barrel of the rifle.

Her mother chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. “Why am I not surprised daddy would have a saying for it?”

Anita blinked again.

The dust blanket continued to flood the sky, but the sun above had began to disappear. The darkness of the encroaching nightfall was absolute as Anita sat beside the front door to her family’s home. A soft amber glow emanated from within, but her eyes were fixated on the dark horizons, waiting for something. Or someone.

Footsteps approached from behind her. “Annie, please come in, it’s late.” Her mother cooed as she leaned against the doorframe. “You know the curfew protocols better than anyone.”

  
“But daddy said he’d be home by now. Where is he?” Fear clutched at Anita’s voice, her eyes betraying her paranoia.

“Oh sweetpea, you know how daddy’s line of work goes. Sometimes things don’t go to plan and...well, it’ll take him a couple more weeks to get back. It’s dangerous work but we keep fighting the good fight, hm?” Her mother knelt down beside her, giving Anita a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Daddy will be home soon enough, but if he were here right now, you know that he’d want you in bed already. The queen’s gotta get her beauty sleep after all if she wants to grow up big and strong.”

Another blink.

Darkness. Anita’s vision was clouded by a dark fog, her head swimming in dread and anxiety. The sound of her mother’s crying passed her by without a moment’s notice, joined shortly by a cacophony of screams and explosions raging throughout her subconscious as memories played back like a speeding film reel. Her breathing became more laboured as her chest rose and fell at a quickening pace. She closed her eyes.

The Flatline lay idle in her trembling grip. The timer on the shooting gallery had long exceeded its limit, flashing a bright yellow to beckon Anita off of the pedestal. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared down at the weapon, signs of its age showing across its surface upon a light inspection. 

“A-As long as you hold the left to right, your aim will stay true…” Anita cleared her throat, passing a hand across her eyes to wipe the tears away before they flowed down her cheeks. “...a-and tight.” She fell to the ground clutching onto the rifle, looking up into the tree canopies once more. “Miss you, dad...hope I’ve done you proud.”


End file.
